


Passing through

by TheCursedChild



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gift Exchange, Thegoodshipcharloe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedChild/pseuds/TheCursedChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastan Monroe tries to sneak into her town, but Charlie sees him coming from a mile away and keeps him busy for the afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whynotitsfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whynotitsfun/gifts).



> Whynotitsfun’s gift for the 2014 Very Charloe Christmas Fan Fic Gift Exchange on thegoodshipcharloe. Happy Holidays!

She’s gone before the war starts for real.

She doesn’t leave a note, she doesn’t say goodbye. Charlie just walks north, randomly stopping in little villages and bigger cities, making sure they can’t track her down.

She leaves the fight hundreds of miles behind her, and knows that the only two loved ones she has left have been following her from the moment she went missing. It brings a smile to her face that they are safe because they want to protect her.

It takes her two months before she doubles back, knowing that they’ve given up and have stopped moving for the moment, staying where they won’t be harmed easily. She’s only ever fought for her family’s safety, and she’s succeeded.

Helping them to a future is easy, her own  is slightly harder to pin down. It comes down to  buying new boots, her old ones ready for retirement. The townspeople see her take out two stray patriots trying to illegally and forcefully confiscate food and ask her to stay. Charlie keeps in mind that she can always change her mind if she wants to move on.

Summer passes and Texas crushes the opposition. She only knows this because the visitors bring stories of war with them. Songs of victory rise among the travelers, who bring books on the newest poetry. She mostly ignores it. Running a town brings enough troubles on its own.

Winter is possibly deadly, especially for children and the elderly if Charlie can’t prevent the shortage of supplies that has taken many lives of her town in the past decade. She hunts extra and gets rewarded for the high-quality meat she manages to deliver. It feels good to help like this, and she is too busy to worry about herself and her own future at all.

Monroe sneaks into her town in broad daylight.

Nobody is allowed outside after dark with the exception of herself and her two deputies. Patriots have been looking for refuge, and they have not been nice about it. Charlie hasn’t been either, the line of graves can attest to that.

The former President knows that, so he simply uses the dirt road. He is surrounded by traders and their carts, horses towering over him, hiding him from sight. He is wearing civilian clothes that blend in with the crowd, and he would’ve gotten away with covering his identity had it not been for the girl who is quickly becoming the bane of his existence.

The greeting is a blade against his throat that comes out of nowhere. Monroe can’t believe she managed to spot him, circle the horses, and move close enough and catch him unawares. He hadn’t even known she was this far east. Last he heard she had been about a thousand miles north of their location.

“Just to prove that I can,” she grins into his ear, her breath ghosting over his skin. “I guess you proved yourself,” she follows up, sheathing her longer-than-knife-not-quite-sword at her waist and spinning him around to face her.

With a well-timed pull at his wrist she gets them out of the way of  the travellers and onto the grass that covers the sides of the road. “What the hell are you doing here?” Bass asks, using her grip to pull them away from any eavesdroppers.

“I could ask you the same. Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory over the patriots?” He gives her a look of innocence that doesn’t fool her for a second. He has been at the head of it since the beginning, since he killed Ranger Fry. Rumors of the Monroe Militia gathering have been spreading for weeks. She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to get involved in that mess again.

Bass shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m too busy for parties at the moment.” It is as much a conformation of the rumors as she’s ever going to get, so she stops the twenty questions right there.

They move across the boundary of the town, the plaza covered in stalls of every size and shape, many more blankets with goods displayed on the grass. It is the busiest time of the year, and it will start snowing any day now. People are rushing to sell everything they can before the amount of travel cuts down to necessity only.

Monroe fills up his duffle with supplies while she silently accompanies him. He is spending money like he has piles of it, and she decides not to care where he got it. The man charms the traders and manages to barter all his costs down, even though he doesn’t have to. She’s seen him do it before, and knows that it is a lingering side-effect of the months he spend as a fugitive.

He follows her to the bar once he’s made it clear he has everything he needs, and they both take a seat in the booth in the corner. It is her usual, with the perfect vantage point and the back-exit in reach. The bartender winks at her and brings her a bottle of amber liquid.

“Your usual,” he says with a smile. The man hurries back to his bar to serve his next customer. The men especially are spending so much on booze that they will collapse under the pressure the winter will bring. Women laugh as they get more drinks than any other time of the year, flirting with abandon within the relatively safe confinements of the establishment.

Monroe grins in appreciation at the half-full bottle, not missing the wink. “Do you bring your boy toys here often?” he questions while she opens the bottle and shares the alcohol. At his comment, she takes an extra sip or two and rolls her eyes.

Yes, she’s racked up a bit of a reputation in the past months. The only question is whether he will add to it or not. While his eyes explore the bar, hers are focused on him. He is in better shape than he was when she found him in Vegas, his muscles less suited for one-on-one fighting and focused on flexibility instead. He is lean but no less strong. A bandage peaks out of his sleeve on both sides, either covering his scorched tattoo or strengthening his weakening wrists.

He is as handsome as ever, his curls wild and his stubble prominent. With nobody to impress (neither Miles or soldiers or enemies), he is not bothering to keep his dictator posture. The tiny amount of him that she’d seen before the bombs had always stood cruel and dominating. Now, he only sits straight and powerful, like she is used to. The only change is that the defeat that weighed down his shoulders is gone. They burned down his city, and he wiped them out.

Monroe is clearly going somewhere. He’s probably leaving as soon as the bottle is empty. Charlie is pretty sure this will be the last time she ever sees him, and the last chance to find out if Monroe’s womanizer reputation is true.

She isn’t really feeling like seduction today. Every man who sits in this booth has to be thoroughly researched before she can allow them to get close. While her Matheson legacy is a secret in this town, there are always some hunters who want her dead.

Charlie knows Monroe. Sure, she still doesn’t trust him with anything important or life changing, but with this, she can trust him any day. So instead of reaching for his hand or subtle resting her chin on his shoulder, she pushes the table a few inches to the side to create some space. Charlie snatches the bottle out of his hand and places it out of reach. With a swing of her leg she is in his lap, her hands on his broad shoulders. She grinds down, feeling him harden.

With her intentions clear, she moves away and makes her way up the stairs in the back, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure he is indeed following her, unable to hear his boots over the loud commotion in the bar.

The key has already opened the lock on her apartment by the time he reaches her. She tries to get inside, but his fingers are hooked in the belt loops of her jeans, holding her back.

“This yours, huh?” He presses her into the wall slowly, the open door leading to privacy ignored in favor of a last-minute clarification. Bass puts a hand on either side of her head, smirking as she fearlessly meets his gaze.

He is calculating his next move, but so is she. Charlie gradually lifts up her leg mobbing it in position, and he suddenly knows exactly what she is planning.

“Watch the knee,” he orders, stepping back and letting her take the lead. The hallway is tiny, so it’s his back against the other side of it. Her knee keeps rising, pressing slightly against his groin in a vague and mostly innocent threat. Point proven, she turns around and enters her bedroom, hips moving.

“I do love watching you walk away,” Monroe grins. It is wiped of his face when she draws in her arm and he stumbles after her, belatedly seeing that she has a firm grip on his belt.

Charlie keeps him upright, halting his fall with a kiss. His skill and experience trump hers easily, and he dominates from that moment onward. He explores her mouth roughly, hands caressing her hips and moving up under her shirt, thumbs gracing the sides of her breasts. Her fingers are tangled in his curls, drawing his head down so she doesn’t need to stand on her toes.

Bass breaks the kiss. Charlie, slightly more aware than the occasionally paranoid general, kicks the door shut and throws the key in a basket on her nightstand. He approaches her from behind and peppers kisses all over her neck and shoulders. With a content sigh, Charlie lets him, reaching back to draw his chest closer to her back.

Her lover rest his chin on her shoulder, hands moving for her belt. ”Let’s get you naked,” he whispers, nibbling on that patch of skin just below her ear. A moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his cold fingers grazing across her warm skin.

She strips off her own shirt and bra just in time to be pushed over. She bounces twice, and lands sideways on the bed to find Bass standing at the foot of it, gazing thoughtfully at her body. “Forgot the boots.”

Charlie wonders how he managed to get her semi-skinny jeans off her legs without removing her boots and shakes her head. “Forgot the boots,” she agrees. They are supposed to be good at this.

She kicks her boots off while he throws his shirt in the general direction of her closet. He crawls unto the bed, casting a shadow over her body. He hovers on his arms, knees on either side of her hips, just grinning down at her.

He sees the quick flash of her smirk before she arches her back. Her hip presses against his cock, creating delicious pleasure. He groans, and Charlie uses the distraction to unbalance his arms, making him drop on her.

She feels the spark as bare skin covers her front, not even bothered by the weight. “I’m not all that patient,” she says, wriggling under him, trying to get to the button of his pants.

“I’ve noticed.” Monroe kicks down his pants when she succeeds, cupping her breasts while she struggles to undo her bra while wiggling out of her panties. For leverage, she wraps her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles. She attacks his lips again, noticing that he is –despite everything- still hesitating to initiate anything.

It’s sorta cute, and she knows exactly where the doubt is coming from. His list of ‘shouldn’ts’ matches hers item for item, which is why she has waited until today to jump him.

However, with her completely naked, she only has to get him out of his boxers before all of his inhibitions fly out of the window.

He latches onto her skin, lips trailing down her body, focusing on random spots with laser-intensity before moving on with changing intervals. Her fingers are playing with his hair as little gasps escape. Monroe buries his face between her legs, hands on her thighs to keep her still as his teeth lightly scrape over her clit. She arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets so she doesn’t pull his hair out.

She fights the desire to have him inside her for as long as she can, until her will is no longer enough. Monroe is exceptionally good at this, and she calls herself crazy when she pulls him up  for another kiss. Charlie roughly strokes his cock back to fully hard and guides him in.

At the contact, twin groans of pleasure echo through the room. Bass rolls over, allowing Charlie to control the pace. He has worked hard enough for the moment, and wants to enjoy the sight of her bouncing breasts as she moves up and down. Charlie’s breath keeps hitching as she struggles to find the spot that makes her see stars.

He moves to meet her thrusts, stabilizing her body with his hands on her thighs. Once he knows for sure what angle she’s after, he rolls on top of her, pinning her wrists down.

She gives him a glare at the interruption. “Monroe,” she warns, playful mood gone now that she’s felt her orgasm slipping away abruptly.

Bass leans down, kissing her softly. She does kiss back, but only to get him moving. Twitching her hips is helping a little, but he has her completely at his mercy. Charlie deepens the kiss, tongue exploring his mouth, and feels him scoot up a little so the pillow angles her body slightly. She practically collapses when he thrusts and hits that spot she always has trouble finding.

Her muscles strain to keep up with the pleasure-inducing assault on her senses, tensing and relaxing as she clings at his shoulders, nails leaving marks on his back. Without fail, he keeps her seeing those stars, her eyelids fluttering at each new bout of gratification.

Charlie finds his throat, sucking a bruise into the salty skin, hearing his appreciative groan as he arches his neck to give her more access. Meanwhile, his hand sneaks between their sweaty bodies, his thumb on her clit.

Her climax hits her  hard, eyes rolling up and nails digging into his back. He keeps up his pace throughout her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure as he reaches his own, pulling out and roughly moving his hand up and down his cock.

They are breathing heavily, a coat of sweat covering skin and the smell of sex heavy in the air. “You staying for Christmas?” she asks against her better judgment. One day with Monroe might undo everything she has here; her job, her room, her not-quite-friends.

“Can’t,” he says, and there is a hint of regret there that sounds completely sincere, “I’m supposed to be in Chicago by the New Year.”

There is only one pillow, so she is using his chest as hers while they stare at the ceiling. She closes her eyes at the answer, her suspicions confirmed. “Chicago gonna be the next Philly?” Now that she knows, her boundaries crumble and her curiosity kicks in.

He turns his head to look at her, but can’t see past the top of her head to meet her eyes. “That’s the plan.” There really isn’t anything more left to say.

 


End file.
